


or maybe you were the ocean (when I was just a stone)

by queerofthedagger



Series: Prongsfoot Stories [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, First War with Voldemort, Fix-It, M/M, POV James Potter, Regulus Black Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26402035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerofthedagger/pseuds/queerofthedagger
Summary: There are only two ways this can end, and James refuses both of them. Refuses to accept that they will die here, like this, joining the hundreds of dead bodies in their eternal grave; refuses to be the one who has to drag Sirius out of here, to tell him that he’s failed in the last second. To watch him shatter underneath the weight of his grief.Kreacher does not like Master Regulus' plan. Kreacher has his orders about them, but they don't include a piece of parchment, meant to join Regulus the following day. Kreacher thinks there's only one person able to help, loath as he is to admit it.Kreacher's right.
Relationships: Regulus Black & Sirius Black, Sirius Black/James Potter
Series: Prongsfoot Stories [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1909207
Comments: 24
Kudos: 244





	or maybe you were the ocean (when I was just a stone)

**Author's Note:**

> Me, finally writing something new in the HP fandom? Can't believe it either. I blame [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LKxv90d6J24) that punched me straight in the face with all the Black Brother feels. I had the song ( [Ben Howard - Black Flies](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Hg5oEPIgaM) ) on repeat all throughout writing this, and the title is from it too. 
> 
> The first part of the fic was written for a writing exercise on discord, "Your character writing to their younger self." The fic's also a fill for a prompt someone sent me on tumblr, asking for James and Sirius rescuing Regulus, either from Grimmauld Place or the Death Eaters, with James/Sirius established or still pining. It ran away with me as you can see, and got more angst-y than it was probably intended to. But I'm weak for fixing the whole cave-scenario, so here we are. 
> 
> I hope you'll like it! ❤️
> 
> Please do not repost my work anywhere or list it on goodreads (or similar sites).

Dear “younger self,”

I would never write this if I wasn’t going to die tomorrow, but there is a strange urge to acknowledge everything in a place outside my own head, and this seems the easiest way. At least it is a dying wish easily fulfilled.

That is a horrible way to start a letter. I suppose it is of no consequence though, seeing that these words will disappear with me.

If I could give you only one piece of advice, it would be this; listen to Sirius. Listen to Sirius and go with him when he leaves – do anything, anything at all to get away from this house that has never been a home to either of you.

I know what you’re thinking; he abandoned you first. He is the one who replaced you. He made everything so much harder on himself with his stubbornness, his constant need to be contrary; by always stepping into the line of mother’s fury.

But he is also right, about _so many_ things.

Most importantly though, he is right about this – no matter what you do, it will never be enough to make them proud. Not getting sorted into Slytherin, not upholding traditions and echoing their beliefs and, most of all, not joining the Dark Lord. Nothing will ever be enough.

You will only burn yourself up by trying; you will do everything that is expected of you and more, and it won’t be enough. You will do unspeakable things that leave you shaking for days on end, that will wake you up every night with screams lodged behind your teeth and fear buried in your bones.

Will leave you aged decades within a year, and still mother will only stare at you blankly and ask where Sirius is.

You won’t know either, but you’ll wish you did. You will wish that you could find him, warn him, _beg_ him for help. But not only will you have aged decades, you will have drifted away so far that there’s no way to go back anymore.

Not a point in trying either.

You may think that I’m dramatizing in typical Black manner, but to be honest, it’s still so much worse than it sounds.

Tomorrow, I will die in a cave, and nobody will know. Tomorrow, I will die in a cave, and all I’ll be remembered as is a spineless coward who has been wrong all along.

At least I won’t have to deal with Sirius’ _‘I told you so.’_ ~~~~

~~I’d take a hundred of those if only to see that grin one more time.~~

There always is a choice, and there always are consequences. Sometimes, they just come for you as an army of Inferi and the Drink of Despair.

_\-- Regulus_

* * *

Regulus doesn't know that Kreacher slips the letter out of his pocket later that night; doesn’t know that his always loyal elf is still searching for his least favourite family member when Regulus leaves for the last time, in the early hours of dawn.

Anything, anything at all to save Master Regulus.

* * *

James hears the crashes and the shouting already on the staircase, Sirius’ voice unmistakable. He breaks into a run, taking the steps two, three at a time, wand drawn and ready to fight whoever has found them.

An old, wrinkled house-elf is not what he expects to find sneering up at Sirius, and it effectively stops him in his tracks. Sirius doesn’t seem to notice him though, glaring down at the creature with so much hatred written over his face that James doesn’t dare let his guard down just yet.

“I’m not going to promise you _anything_ without knowing what you want from me,” Sirius just spits, contempt dripping from his every word. His hands are shaking at his sides though, muscle in his jaw jumping, and James knows that this isn’t a usual threat.

Knows that there’s something personal in this because Sirius’ anger only ever burns bright and hot like this when he’s terrified; when there’s something on the line beyond his own life.

Sirius only ever loses control when it comes to his loved ones, and just like that, James _knows_ whose elf this is; knows with startling certainty spreading through his lungs that this has the potential to break Sirius, and inevitably himself.

Neither of them has noticed him yet, or at least not considered him noteworthy enough to avert their glares from each other, and James takes a second to take in the details.

The living room looks wrecked, books and papers littering the floor and the coffee table lying overturned. Sirius has a cut on his cheek, slowly oozing blood while the elf appears to be unharmed. It’s clenching a crumpled piece of parchment in one gnarled fist though, and underneath the disdain spilling from its eyes, James can make out a deep wariness.

“Sirius,” he says, taking a few steps into the room without lowering his wand. “I don’t think he’d be here if it wasn’t important.”

Because there’s only one reason James can come up with for the elf of the Blacks to appear in their home; only one reason, and he knows that Sirius knows it too, sees it in the thin line of his lips and the tightness of his shoulders.

“It could still be a trick,” Sirius presses out, not taking his eyes off the elf, and there’s a plea ringing in his words, desperation for it to not be what they both fear it is.

“Kreacher would not expose himself to the presence of filthy blood-traitors for – “

“Shut up!” Sirius snaps, eyes flashing, and James quickly wraps his fingers around his wrist. Looks at him and silently says, _not now, not yet, it’s not worth it_.

“What are the terms?” he asks out loud, glancing at the elf whose face twists as if contemplating if James is even worth answering to.

He seems to decide that it’ll have higher chances than with Sirius, though he turns his nose up when he speaks. “Kreacher has a message that was not intended to reach the – you. Kreacher will deliver it still, if the blood-traitor son promises to help.”

And yeah, that would be a problem, James thinks. Looks at Sirius and sees the conflict there, twitching fingers and working jaw, and thinks _to hell with it._

“You were not ordered to not deliver it either, then?” he asks, because he might be reckless, but he’s not _stupid_ ; might be willing to risk everything and anything for Sirius every second of the day, but never once Sirius himself.

The elf’s sneer slips by a fraction. “Kreacher received no orders at all about the letter. Kreacher does want to add that time is an issue. He will be needing help soon.”

Sirius still doesn’t look convinced, but James knows what will happen if they refuse; knows that Sirius will run himself in circles, will drive himself mad with not knowing. Knows that it might be the deciding push to finally plunge them off the precipice this war has them balancing on.

Thinks that if it’s as bad as he thinks it is, refusing might end up being worse than whatever potential trap they’re about to walk into.

His grip on Sirius’ wrist tightens, but he doesn’t glance away from the elf when he says, “We accept. Give us the letter, and we’ll help.”

Sirius makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat but he’s also already gripping for the parchment, nearly tearing it in his haste.

James is barely able to take in the words with the way Sirius is shaking beside him, and still, all he can think is that it’s so, so much worse than he could’ve ever anticipated.

“Where,” Sirius finally chokes out, his face pale and haunted, and he’s swaying on his feet, knuckles white around his wand. “ _Where_ ,” he repeats, voice breaking over the shout.

James does the only thing he can do; takes Sirius’ face between his hands and digs his fingers into his skin. Presses their foreheads together and says, “No, not like this.” Holds on even as Sirius struggles, eyes wild and caught so firmly between anger and desperation that it makes James’ heart ache. “You’ll kill us both like this,” he says, shaking him for good measure. Says, “Breathe,” again and again until Sirius finally starts listening, or at least accepting that it’s the only way James will let him out of this flat anytime soon.

“Better,” he finally allows, but he only lets his hand drop to Sirius’ wrist once more as he turns back to the elf.

There’s disdain again, but also poorly hidden relief, and James could honestly not care less about what a house-elf thinks of them right now.

“When is he planning to go?” Sirius asks, and his voice is still strained, full of fear buried underneath fury, but at least he’s thinking again.

Of course, it all flies out of the window when Kreacher answers, “He left an hour ago. Kreacher can take you to the entrance of the cave but not further.”

James doesn’t protest when Sirius snarls, “Take us,” doesn’t think that Kreacher would be willing to give them more information even if he’d get Sirius to listen for another second.

The words _Inferi_ and _Drink of Despair_ are still echoing through his head, and they’re mixing with the guilt that is already radiating off of Sirius in waves, mixing with _it’s my fault_ , and _I should’ve tried harder_ , and _if he dies, it’s because of me,_ that he knows are running rampage in Sirius’ own head.

As they’re pulled into the Apparation, James silently lists defences against Inferi and poison, hoping that they’re the only things he will have to fight tonight.

The sounds hit him first; desperate, guttural sobs that seem to echo, magnified and thrown around between what turn out to be the smooth, dark walls of a large cave. There are pleas in between, broken off words and swallowed fractures, though through the seconds it takes them to orientate themselves, two words are repeated over and over.

 _Sirius_ , _please_.

The words twist themselves underneath James’ ribs, race down his spine, and still he is glad for them. They freeze Sirius in place just long enough for James to reach out and hold him back from storming straight into the water stretching out between them and the small island Regulus seems to be kneeling on.

A green glow coming from a basin spends just enough eerie light to illuminate Regulus’ trembling figure, curled in on himself and pleading, crying, screaming himself hoarse.

It’s only Kreacher’s voice that prevents James from having to outright fight Sirius to keep him where he is.

“There’s a boat,” he says. “It will only take one of you.”

“Can’t you take us?” James asks before Sirius can, one arm still tightly wrapped around his chest as his own stomach sinks, panic clawing its way slowly up his throat.

Kreacher’s jaw sets and he shakes his head. “The wards would be tripped, and Master Regulus forbade me from doing anything to alert _him_.”

There’s no way, no way in _hell_ that James will let Sirius go alone, or leave him behind, and he spares a thought to curse whoever set up this nightmare of a setting. He has some suspicions but no time to really bother with them, Sirius already struggling again, glaring and spitting and snarling at James as if he’s seriously contemplating to hex him within the next few seconds.

He needs an answer, a solution, _anything_ , but there’s nothing, and then there’s movement from the small island, the sudden sound of waves drawing their attention.

It shouldn’t be loud enough, shouldn’t drown out Regulus’ cries and Sirius’ curses, but still they both stop moving, eyes forcibly dragged to witness Regulus bowing low over the edge of the lake.

Grey hands are breaking the surface of the water, followed by heads and bodies, so many of them that they appear to be moving as one. The green light reflects on the dead skin, catching on empty eyes and white teeth, and James has to clench his jaw against the bile rising in his throat.

“Take us,” Sirius says, and his voice is cold all of a sudden, tightly controlled fury pressed into two words as he stares at Kreacher.

“Kreacher cannot – “

“Take. Us,” Sirius repeats, drawing himself up. “I _command_ you to take us, or I swear by all that I hold dear, my mother will look like a bloody joke when I’m done with you.”

Kreacher’s still hesitating, visibly struggling with himself in a way that would give James a pause in different circumstances, but they’re losing time they can’t afford.

Regulus’ screams have turned hoarse, barely audible over the other noises filling up the cavern now, and it’s impossible to spot him any longer in between the throng of Inferi.

“You want him to survive as well, don’t you?” James tries, and there’s terror ringing through his words.

Finally, Kreacher nods, and they don’t get another second to prepare themselves for the lurch of Apparation; to question just who they’re alerting by tripping the wards.

Sirius twists out of his grip the second they have solid ground under their feet again, wand slashing through the air in ferocious precision. Still, for every cutting curse that hits its target, three more seem to appear, and the whole bulk of them is already moving back into the murky water.

“Fire,” James snaps, unceremoniously digging his elbow into Sirius’ side when he doesn’t seem to hear him. “Fire, but not directly at them, come on.”

An incantation rolls off Sirius’ tongue that James has only ever read about and his blood runs cold. His own movement slows and stops as he watches white-hot flames burst forward, rushing over the surface of the lake surrounding them, forming indistinct shapes.

“Sirius,” he tries, grabbing his arm. “ _Sirius_ ,” he shouts, shaking him, but to no avail. There are no Inferi left in the vicinity of the island. No other bodies either but for Kreacher cowering by the basin, and James knows, knows that Sirius has noticed too. That he’ll burn the whole cave down, no matter how little it will serve an actual purpose, and himself with it if James lets him.

The light of the flames is breaking on Sirius’ face, all hard lines and pain etched into every crease as his eyes seem to burn, grey blazing just as bright.

There are only two ways this can end, and James refuses both of them. Refuses to accept that they will die here, like this, joining the hundreds of dead bodies in their eternal grave; refuses to be the one who has to drag Sirius out of here, to tell him that he’s failed in the last second. To watch him shatter underneath the weight of his grief.

It’s not a plan. It’s not even something he expects to work or to not go horribly wrong, but it’s the only thing he can think off beyond forcing Sirius to give up for his sake.

The Summoning Spell shouldn’t work on people, and the seconds after he casts tick by so very slowly. The heat keeps scorching his skin, licking at his hands and his face and supplying a painfully tangible warning of Sirius’ suffering.

Then there’s a ripple in the water close to them, a body hurling out of it and barrelling into James with a force that knocks him off his feet. Sharp stones are digging into his back, his head is thundering with the strength of the impact but he’s laughing, laughing and crying and only just making sure that it’s Regulus lying on top of him, unconscious but with breath brushing against James’ neck.

Somehow, he manages to climb back to his feet, pulling Regulus up as he goes. Manages to stumble through the thick smoke that’s curling through the air, through his lungs, threatening to choke them all before they can burn or drown.

A distant, hysterical corner of his mind that he tries to ignore as best as he can is helpfully pointing out that it at least keeps out whoever created this cavern from hell, and he wants to laugh again.

Finally, he reaches Sirius, standing rigid at the very edge of the water with tears streaming down his face but wand still raised, staring straight into the flames. James wraps his free hand around his neck, pressing his nails into his skin and shaking him until Sirius finally turns his head to look at him.

It takes several seconds until the haze leaves Sirius’ eyes and they widen, realization bleeding into them, swiftly followed by guilt. James wants to feel relief, wants to reassure him that there’s nothing to be guilty about; wants to shove Regulus at him and shout, _see, everything will be fine, you idiot. As if I’d ever let you down._

He’s not sure yet that he believes it himself though and does none of those things. Does only tighten his grip on both brothers and shouts for Kreacher, the words scraping against his raw throat, and he nearly slumps in relief when the elf appears next to them with wide, terrified eyes.

“Take us to our flat,” he orders, praying and begging silently that he will listen. The fire is breaking through the barrier Sirius must’ve kept up, heat already singing their clothes, and he thinks he can hear a shriek of rage even over the roaring of the flames.

The sight of Regulus must’ve convinced Kreacher because he doesn’t waste a second to grab the limp hand, and then the world is twisting, lurching, and the last thing James sees is white and red and yellow, and a person materializing out of black smoke in the spot they’re just leaving behind.

Regulus’ weight drags James down as soon as they land, and he pulls Sirius with him. The quiet and cold of their living room is like a punch, adrenaline snatched away with the sudden absence of heat.

For long moments, he’s unable to move, to do anything but breathe. Unable to comprehend that they made it out, all three of them still alive and here, maybe not unharmed but not on the bottom of a lake full of Inferi either.

“Is he - ?” Sirius breaks the silence, and when James turns his head to look at him, his eyes are clenched shut, hands still trembling where they press against the floor, and lips white with the force his teeth are biting into them.

“He’s breathing,” he answers quietly because he has no idea if Regulus is fine, will be fine again, and he can’t lie to Sirius, never could, not even about something like this.

Sirius gives a jerky nod, still not opening his eyes but reaching out a hand to wrap around James’ own so tightly that he can feel his bones shift. “I could’ve killed you. I could’ve killed you and _you didn’t stop me_.”

It’s not an accusation, not even a reprimand. It’s only horror, and guilt, and James wants to erase the previous hours from all of their minds. Wants to take all three of them far away from a family that pitches brothers against each other, from a war that’s eating away at all of them, and from whatever it is that led Regulus to the cave and his near self-sacrifice in the first place.

Wants to take them far away and forget about the terror that’s still woven tightly around his ribs, pressing into his lungs and choking up his throat with a grip so crushing, he’s not sure if it’ll ever leave again.

“As if I’d let you,” he finally chokes out, squeezing Sirius’ hand in return and pulling them both into a sitting position.

It falls flat and they both know it, but Sirius merely gives another nod and scrambles until he’s kneeling at Regulus’ side, hands shaking as they hover helplessly over his still body.

James wants to take them far away from here, or scream and rage until the memories don’t feel so achingly raw anymore, and does none of it. Instead, he pulls himself together with more effort than it’s ever taken him and knocks his head softly against Sirius’ in wordless reassurance.

Taking a deep breath, he starts pulling away Regulus’ torn robes. “Kreacher, could you get me the potions from the bathroom?” he asks when he finds deep gashes underneath the fabric, littering his arms and chest, bleeding into their faded blue carpet.

The elf disappears, the crack of his Apparition startling Sirius out of his shock. The following minutes pass in silence, both of them working on closing the wounds, dispelling the water from Regulus’ lungs, and checking for invisible injuries.

After Kreacher reappears with the potions, he watches them closely but otherwise stays silent and keeps his distance, hands wrung tight into the hem of the pillowcase he’s wearing.

“That’s it,” James finally says, sitting back on his haunches and rubbing a hand over his face in exhaustion. “Some of it will scar, but he should wake up soon.”

At least he hopes so; neither of them is a Healer even if they’d inevitably picked up the basics since leaving Hogwarts. He doesn’t want to consider what would happen if he doesn’t.

Sirius doesn’t answer, merely sits back to lean against the back of the couch and carefully moving Regulus until his head is resting in Sirius’ lap.

For long moments, James only watches the slow movements of Sirius’ hand carding through Regulus’ hair, the way his eyes keep roaming over his body as if expecting new injuries to appear. Watches how two of his fingers stay pressed against Regulus’ pulse point at his throat, hand twitching every other second.

Eventually though, James forces himself back to his feet, legs trembling underneath him as he makes his way into the kitchen. His throat is parched, his eyes are still burning from the smoke, and he knows that Sirius must be in a similar state; knows that he won’t get up and take care of himself until Regulus opens his eyes because it’s what he’d do if it was James lying there.

It’s what James would do if the roles were reversed, and that’s a scenario he shoves away as best as he can whenever the thought so much as tries to form.

When he steps back into the room with two glasses of water and PepperUp Potion, Sirius is still in the same position, but he’s talking quietly, words barely audible. “Come on, lionheart, you have to wake up. I owe you several _I told you so’s_ , remember?” he’s just saying, voice rough and still so, so heavy with regrets.

“Sir-us?”

James freezes where he’s just sitting down next to them, nearly forgetting to keep up the levitation spell, and watches with fear and relief warring in his chest as Regulus’ eyelids flutter, eyes slowly blinking open to reveal a grey several shades darker than Sirius’.

“You _idiot_ ,” is the first thing Sirius chokes out, his grip on Regulus’ shoulder visibly tightening, and in spite of everything, James smiles faintly. “You complete, utter idiot, how _could_ you?”

Regulus’ eyes widen, his body going rigid while his hands curl into fists at his sides. “What – where – “

“You nearly _died_ ,” Sirius spits before James can even think about answering, and he winces at the note of anger creeping back into Sirius’ tone. “What were you thinking? If Kreacher hadn’t – “

“Kreacher came to you?” Regulus interrupts, surprisingly alert all of a sudden as he sits up, and James wonders if it’s only adrenaline that’s fuelling him. He twists so he can keep looking at them, pushing himself onto his knees, and his eyes flicker between them as fear and disbelief chase each other over his expression. “I – you – you got me out of the cave?”

Before Sirius can answer, James reaches out to squeeze his knee.

Sirius swallows, eyes closing briefly, but his voice is much calmer when he says, “Yes, though if it wasn’t for James, I doubt – we only arrived when you – when the Inferi attacked you.”

Regulus’ expression doesn’t change, confusion and wariness still shining in his eyes. “But how – I forbade Kreacher from telling anyone and anyway, why? Why would you – “

 _Care_ is what he doesn’t say, what he doesn’t _have_ to say if the flinch from Sirius is anything to go by.

James watches out of the corner of his eye as Sirius’ jaw clenches and unclenches, fingers tapping a restless rhythm against his legs, and he eventually draws his shoulders back.

“Because you’re my _brother_. And I – even though I never regretted leaving Grimmauld’s, I regretted leaving you behind. That we grew apart so badly and I – that you thought you couldn’t come to me with whatever insane thing you were attempting tonight. Because the thought of you dying – I couldn’t – I’d _never_ let that happen,” Sirius finally says, his voice quiet but gaze boring into Regulus’.

Regulus stares with wide eyes, a frown etched between his brows as if he isn’t quite sure that any of this is real. “But you’re – I’m everything you hate,” he finally spits, face twisting into a snarl while his hands tremble at his sides. “I joined the Dark Lord! I did things so horrible, you wouldn’t – “ he chokes off, turning his head away.

James thinks it’s startling how similar the two of them are, after all, despite everything. He’s itching to make this easier for both of them, but all he can do is press his leg against Sirius’ and hope that it’ll be enough to get through this.

“And you realised what a shit-choice that was,” Sirius shoots back, and for the briefest of seconds, his lips twitch into a smile. “I told you so, by the way.”

Regulus’ head whips back around, and James wants to bury his face in his hands.

“The letter,” Regulus whispers, his whole posture slumping. “Of course. I should’ve – “

“If you finish that sentence, I’ll kill you myself,” Sirius growls, then shakes his head and huffs. “I just – are you really so keen to die that you wouldn’t even consider asking me for help?”

There’s desperation bleeding through his words now, and Regulus must’ve heard it too because his head snaps up, his hand twitching as if he wants to reach out.

“It’s not – no,” he presses out, running a hand over his face. “But I – not only didn’t I expect you to believe me, it’s also dangerous. More dangerous than this war already is, and you have a traitor in your precious Order and I couldn’t – he’ll hunt me down anyway.“

“You betrayed Voldemort,” James says before Sirius can, the final pieces clicking into place, and it reminds him of the flash of white skin materialising just as they’d left the cave behind.

Regulus flinches at the name and seems to hesitate. Eventually, he nods, resolve hardening his features. “He’s mad, completely, utterly mental. I just – I couldn’t do it anymore and when Kreacher – when I found out something important, something that could help bring him down, I – “ he pauses, biting his lips. Takes a deep breath and closes his eyes before looking back at Sirius. “I thought I could at least do _one_ good thing. What does it matter if I die in a raid, in a cave, or because he decides to kill me?”

“Because I couldn’t bear to lose you!” Sirius snaps. “Because it was already bad enough to lose you once, and I won’t let Voldemort, or anyone else for that matter, lay a fucking hand on you, alright? And you’ll better get used to that, you complete idiot, because I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

There’s a beat of silence in which the words seem to ring through the room, and then a dry sob wrenches itself out of Regulus’ throat, his hand flying up to press against his mouth.

Sirius instantly moves forward, wrapping his arms around Regulus and burying his head in the crook of his neck, his own shoulders shaking. It takes only a second until Regulus’ arms come up, his hands clenching into the fabric of Sirius’ hoodie as if holding on for dear life.

James watches, something loosening in his chest, and when he looks at Kreacher for the first time since Regulus woke up, there’s barely any disdain left on his old face.

The two of them stay in their embrace for a long time, murmuring to each other so quietly that James can’t make out the words.

As much as he wants to give them their time, to leave them to make up for all those lost years, there’s still a memory at the forefront of his mind that is impossible to ignore. He doesn’t want to think about it, wants to think about nothing but all three of them being alive and well, but if he truly wants to keep it that way, they still have more important things to worry about first.

Clearing his throat and flashing them a strained, apologetic smile, he waits until he has both of their attention. “I’m not sure that we weren’t seen just before we disappeared.”

All the blood drains from Regulus’ face and he flinches back as if he’s been slapped. His hand finds Sirius’ arm, fingers twisting into his sleeve, and James’ heart _aches_ at having to do this at all.

Sirius’ features only harden, jaw setting and lips pressing into a thin line.

James knows what he’s going to say and shakes his head. “We have to leave,” he says, raising his hand to stall Sirius’ protest. “We could go into hiding, but Regulus is right. We have a traitor in the Order, and whatever it is Regulus attempted to do tonight, you and I both know that it was too well-guarded to draw anything but Voldemort’s utmost attention.”

“A Horcrux,” Regulus says quietly, turning his head to send Sirius a look full of meaning that’s lost on James. “Did you take a locket, by any chance?”

“A Horcrux,” Sirius echoes, his voice suddenly hoarse again, and he slowly shakes his head. “We didn’t but I – well I guess it got probably caught up in the Fiendfyre.”

“You – “ Regulus starts, then cuts himself off and shakes his head. “Never mind. James is right though, we can’t stay here. We have to – I need to, I’m – “ he stammers, hands starting to shake and fear filling his eyes.

Sirius’ eyes meet James’, and he finds the same resolve that he’s feeling mirrored back at him, a silent, old promise between the two of them that now includes a third one.

“My parents had a house in the middle of nowhere in Iceland,” he says, a plan starting to take shape in his mind. “We’ve never been there but I know the coordinates to create a Portkey, and that there are a few elves who’ve taken care of it over the years.”

“I should be able to ward it and make it unplottable,” Sirius picks up, already getting to his feet and dragging Regulus with him. “We’ll contact Dumbledore, get a message to him with the information we have and that we’re leaving, nothing more.”

“What about mother?” Regulus asks, the panic receding even though there’s still uncertainty in his eyes. “I know you don’t care but if he saw me, if I disappear…”

Sirius sighs, closing his eyes briefly, but he nods. “Send Kreacher back, order him to not tell anyone but report to her that he hasn’t seen you in days. Voldemort won’t outright kill her if she doesn’t know what’s going on, the support of the family is too important for him.”

There’s a beat of silence as Regulus and Sirius stare at each other, but eventually, Regulus nods, exhaling a sigh. “I hope you’re right.”

Summoning parchment, James hands it to him. “Write down everything you know about – whatever it is you were talking about; I’ll call one of the Potter elves to deliver it later. We’re going to pack a few things, I think Sirius has some clothes that should fit you.”

Regulus nods, fiddling with the quill, and James decides to leave him to it. Just as he and Sirius are about to leave the room, Regulus calls, “Wait!”

Turning back around, James watches him, hoping that there won’t be another argument coming; it’s all a mess already, all of them running on their last reserves of strength, and they can’t afford to lose any more time.

“Thank you,” Regulus says, the words quiet but sincere.

James smiles, but it’s Sirius who answers. “Always.”

As soon as the door to their bedroom closes behind them, Sirius twists, pushing James against the wood and crashing their mouths together.

His own hands come up on instinct, wrapping around Sirius’ waist, and he keeps his eyes closed even as Sirius pulls back to lean their foreheads together.

“We’d all be dead without you,” Sirius chokes out, voice breaking over the words, and his fingers press against James’ jaw so harshly that it’s bordering on painful. “We’d be all dead, and now we have to leave everything behind. Are you – I won’t force you to come with us.”

James huffs a laugh, wet and nearly hysterical. “Merlin, sometimes you’re such an idiot,” he presses out, his own throat closing up. “I’d go anywhere with you, anywhere at all. You should know that by now. And we’ll be safe. At least, we’ll finally be safe.”

The last words linger in his mind, circling as they haphazardly throw clothes and trinkets into bags, packing up only what they’ll need most. Linger as they send off the letter to Dumbledore and create a Portkey out of the mug that Lily gave them as a house-warming gift. As the three of them grab it tightly and are whisked away.

Circle through his mind still, as they set foot into the small cottage at the foot of a mountain, waves crashing in the distance, dark wood cracked with age but warm and cosy and safe.

_They’ll be safe._

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear what you think.❤️ Come find me on [tumblr](https://queerofthedagger.tumblr.com/)


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